Worlds Colliding
by DanteLegna
Summary: There were more than a single world waiting out there, and they were more than ready to explore them all. [A serie of one-shots/drabbles in different universes, Jack/Pitch centered; no slash; rated T for safety]
1. Snowday

_**Hello again! I just don't know what I'm doing anymore but oh well, you guys are used to it by now (at least you guys who follow me). If you don't know me yet, I'm the crazy one that writes 'A Hundred Words', a drabble/one-shots collection about Jack &Pitch relationship in a fraternal way. However, I couldn't help but have some ideas about AUs and I didn't think it was write to put them into that collection. So here, have a new one! Lots (at least I'm planning to write more than a few) of drabbles/one-shots in differents AUs. I apologize beforehand for all the OOCness that you may find on your way, and for all the spelling and grammar mistakes you'll find.**_

 ** _I hope you guys enjoy this collection!_**

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of The Guardians.**_

* * *

 **Summary: Jack wants to play on the snow for the first time.** _ **  
**_ **(human!Jack; human!Pitch)**

 _"Tomorrow is a hope, never a promise."_

* * *

 _ **Snowday**_

"Koz?"

Kozmotis blinked a few times, his mind still numb and dizzy from the short nap, the book slipping of his hands to fall on the floor but he didn't register it. He couldn't even remember the moment he had fallen asleep on the armchair, too exhausted and comfortable to even care about going to bed before passing out right there. Unfortunately his now sore neck didn't agree with him, and the man took a moment to stretch before he finally let his gaze fall on the boy. Jack had freed himself from the piles of blankets around his body and sat up on the bed, resting against the bed head with that _stupid_ , mischievous smile plastered on his face.

Kozmotis couldn't simply **understand** that.  
He couldn't understand how someone could smile _so easily_ when...

"Yes, Jack?" Now it wasn't time to think about those things. His eyes darted around for a second or two, finding the clock over the fireplace to check on the hour. Not as late as he had expected. "It's not dinner time yet."

"Nope. I wanna do something special today."

Kozmotis sighed, curling against the armchair as he closed his eyes, exhaustion threatening to take over his tired senses and limbs again. When was the last time he really slept for a whole night? It seemed to be a lifetime ago, in fact. He heard Jack calling his name again, impatient and loud as the little imp he was, and the older man felt a deep, annoyed sigh escape his lips.

" _No_ , Jack. No matter what you ask, it's getting late and it's snowing."

"But I wanna see the snow!"

Now that wasn't something he was expecting to hear from Jack, but maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. Kozmotis opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times once more to be sure he hadn't fall asleep again, and stared back at Jack. The boy had that defying, intense expression that left no space for doubts. He was serious. _Really serious_ about this one. And Kozmotis had believed things couldn't get any worse than they already were...

"No."

"Koz!"

"Of all the _irresponsible_ things you could ask me-"

"Just once, please!" And when the child's voice shattered, Kozmotis felt all his defenses breaking as well. "I... just wanna see it **once**. I can't.. you know- I'll be careful, you can wrap me in all the jackets I have a-and even in four piles of blankets but I can't..."

The older man took a deep breath, running a hand through his raven hair. He couldn't, he shouldn't let the child do something so stupid, so unhealthy but he knew it'd be just as cruel to deny such a _heartbreaking_ request. Jack's eyes were filled with unshed tears, his pale fingers trembling softly as he gripped the blankets. **How** was he supposed to say no, even when he knew it'd just do more _evil_ than good? Kozmotis finally found strength enough to pull himself up and approach the bed, resting a hand on the child's forehead before moving to his hair. No fever. It was a good signal, at least.

"I feel good today, Koz. I really do. And it's my birthday today, remember?"

Of course Kozmotis remembered. How could he forget such a **special** day? And he knew there was no idea to take the idea out of Jack's head, no matter what he said. After a long moment he finally gave up and nodded, moving towards to wardrobe. Every inch of his body _screamed_ against that, against the idea of letting his ward go out in a damned cold afternoon to see the snow. Jack was still _too fragile_ , too weak. It was a miracle he could still stand on his own, yet... he sucked in a deep, harsh breath, trying not to think about that. It'd just make him change his mind and he wouldn't be able to face Jack's hurt expression like he had done countless times before.

It was just **too much** , for both of them.  
They both deserved a break from the cruel, harsh reality they've been living in for the past years.

Kozmotis felt a warm hand being pressed against his back and relaxed under the gentle touch, smiling down at Jack. The boy was still painfully thin and small for his age, but his smile was enough to reassure him that he was indeed feeling well and everything would be fine. A few minutes outside would make them feel better, and it had been a long time since they had some fun together. He pushed away every and any bad feeling and doubt bubbling on his chest and shoved his overprotectiveness in the very depths of his mind, ignoring Jack's little protests as he forced at least four jackets on the boy.

And a hat. And two pair of gloves.  
A scarf was always good to keep around, as well.

He was just being safe. Not _overprotective_.

"You wanna keep me **alive** or what? I can't breath under all these things!"

"Shush, you." Kozmotis laughed softly, finally managing the child to wear some warm shoes before taking a step back to appreciate his work, nodding in approvation. At least Jack wouldn't be cold. "You look warm enough. Come on, before I change my mind about this whole thing."

Any sarcastic retort Jack would say got lost in the moment Kozmotis motioned the door, and the boy gulped softly, eyes shining in antecipation as they crossed the second floor and then the hall quickly, his breath stuck on his throat as the older man approached the main door and unlocked it, allowing the cold wind of winter invade the sacred warmth of their home. The child giggled at the sudden, foreign feeling. It wasn't a bad cold like the ones he used to feel during the nights. It was a gentle cold, inviting even. He took a careful step out, not expecting the lack of stability under his feet, and almost faceplanted right on the snow. Fortunately he kept his balance and giggled loudly, taking a few more steps into the white, fluffy blanket that covered every part of the garden and the streets, his eyes trying to look around at everything at the same time.

It was just _beautiful_. Everything was wonderful, amazing. The cold, the snowflakes falling from the sky, the snowbanks settled here and there...  
How had he missed it for so long?

For a moment he felt tears pricking into his eyes but brushed them off quickly. That stupid sickeness wouldn't mess with him now, not when he was feeling **so great**. A few more steps and he finally found a way not to fall on his face whenever he walked.

"Jack." Kozmotis called softly from the door, keen eyes never leaving his ward. "Five minutes, okay?"

Five minutes were more than enough.

* * *

"So, did you have fun today?" Kozmotis asked idly, more focused on tucking Jack under the blankets, keeping him as warm as he could. The boy just hummed in response, eyes already closed, and the older man didn't help the smile that curled on his lips, running a hand through the child's hair. "Good. Maybe we can do something as special next year."

"It'll be fun. We could make a snowman..." Jack mumbled softly, sighing happily. "Koz, do you think I'll ever get better?"

"I _know_ so."

It was a blatant lie and they both knew so, yet he couldn't just say otherwise, not now when everything was **just fine**. Kozmotis pushed the tears away, placing a soft kiss on Jack's too warm forehead, trying not to worry, not to brood over what would happen sooner or later. They could think about it any other day of the year. They could fear and dread the next day tomorrow.

Today, Jack was alive and that was all that mattered.  
Tomorrow was just a new hope that he'd never give up on.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading! Reviews would make me really happy~**_  
 _ **See ya~**_


	2. The Wolf and the Lamb

_**Hello again, my dearies! First of all, thank you for all your love and support. It means a lot to me, it really do! It makes me want to write more just for you 3**_ _ **And now, about this chapter. I really like this one. I struggled to write a proper end to it but I hope it's good enough for you guys. Let me know if you don't like it too, oh well~**_

 _ **If you have any requests, let me know as well!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.**_

* * *

 **Summary: Pitch decides to investigate an old tale about a winter spirit.  
(RoTG AU; warnings: main character death)**

 _"Embracing life means accepting death."_

* * *

 **The Wolf and the Lamb**

The stories about a certain winter spirit were far from uninteresting. Oh how he loved those stories of how he only brought death and cold wherever he went, of how his single touch could freeze a fellow spirit to the core if they weren't careful enough. How there was a rumour that Man in Moon himself needed to lock the spirit away to prevent him from spreading more chaos. The fear that emanated of each word was more than enough to feed his weak, wrecked body and he longed for more night after night. Even so, Pitch Black couldn't ignore the mutual feeling of empathy growing within his dark soul. Winter spirits had always been strange creatures, but this one that had showed up out of nowhere seemed to affect the other spirits deeply. The _Guardians of Childhood_ themselves didn't even try to go after the rumours surrounding the mysterious figure, since he hadn't done nothing against the children of Earth.

And his curiosity and empathy only seemed to **grow**.  
Oh, how _deep_ had he fallen...

The Nightmare King couldn't really remember how or when he ended up in there, shivering under the merciless winds of Antarctica.  
Maybe it was that weird feeling slamming at his chest with the full strength of a blizzard.

He **needed** to know he wasn't the _only one_ being casted out by everyone else.  
He **needed** to know _someone else_ felt like him.

Abandoned. Hopeless.  
Forgotten.

The ice cave hadn't been difficult to find, even in the endless whites of the tundra, and he was grateful for escape the wind roaring outside. Blue and white mixed in every wall, in each icicle and snowflake that had been detailed in a painfully perfect way. It wasn't a cave created by time and the wild nature. It required magic and an endless amount of patience through years of solitude and loneliness. Oh how he knew those feelings...

"Are you there?"

His velvet, soft voice sounded foreign on his own ears as it echoed on the iced walls, golden eyes moving around slowly as he tried to find something - **someone** hiding behind layers of snow and frost. He took a step forward, then another and another until his fingers could touch a pillar made of the purest ice he had ever seen. The cold bit on his skin, yet he simply dismissed the pain as a swift movement behind his back caught his attention. Pitch turned slowly, trying to picture what a winter spirit would look like...

But _who_ he faced was nothing, **absolutely nothing** like he had expected.

The winter spirit the others had been talking and fearing so much wasn't someone as huge and scary as Old Man Winter had been, nor a bloody madman like Jokul Frosti. It was just... a _child_. That poor thing couldn't be older than fourteen, thin and painfully small. His skin was so pale it looked almost translucent, as if his whole body had been made of pure, fragile snow. His hair was as white as the fresh snowflakes falling over their heads from nowhere at all, and his eyes, dull and empty of emotions, were impossibly blue - as blue as the ice covering the walls of his cave. His old clothing and shepherd-like staff were covered with frost that seemed to follow the boy's barefeet as he moved softly, floating a few inches away from the ground.

 _Beautiful_. There was no other word to describe such a perfect little creature.

"I am here." His voice as no more than a whisper in the wind, cold and small as his entire being, and for a moment Pitch wondered if his mere touch would make that little preciosity melt as it did to a snowflake that fell on the back of his hand. It surely _looked_ so.

"Are you **sad** , snowflake?"

"I am."

It was just so **easy**... a wave of excitement and antecipation ran down the Boogeyman's spine and he smiled, daring to take a step closer to the winter child that didn't move. He looked lost, _exhausted_ of his own meaningless existence. Pitch knew those feelings perfectly well. Another step closer and he could almost touch that pale, snowy skin. He **desired** to, yet he knew it was just _too soon_. He should be careful. Patient. He _was_ a patient man, after all. All those years in the darkness had taught him wonderful little tricks. The winter spirit stared back at him, blue eyes full of a childish curiosity as he stretched a hand out just too slowly, almost afraid of touching him... And then cold fingers rested against his warm cheek and he felt frost covering his skin in the very moment the child touched him yet he didn't dare to move away, even if every inch of his body screamed against the strange feeling.

"You don't understand anything..."

"I understand."

Pitch felt himself replying just a bit too quickly, but the winter spirit didn't seem to notice it - _thankfully_. The Nightmare King offered him a soft smile, covering the small hand with his own, ignoring the cold biting at his skin and fingers as the honeyed words escaped his lips with mastered perfection. Oh how careful he needed to be, for he knew he was stepping in thin ice and any harsh, wrong movement would scare that precious snowflake away.

"I know what's like to be cast out. To long for a **family**. I've spend so many years in the shadows believing _no one_ else could understand how it feels like... and I was wrong. We don't need to be alone anymore, Jack."

Blue eyes widened in disbelief and hope, his hand slipping out of Pitch's grip to hold the frozen staff tightly. A child seeking comfort in a teddy bear.

He _wanted_ it. The Boogeyman could see it in every trace of his eternal young expressions. He wanted it so badly, he wanted to take that chance because he knew that was the only chance anyone would ever offer him, but... Pitch noticed the very moment that empty, pointless hope shattered and crumbled to dust, when Jack's eyes finally focused on the trail of frost still resting on his grey cheek. The winter child landed on the icy ground, his feet finally touching the snow, and he just looked smaller and more fragile than before, eyes filled with unshed, frozen tears hidden under his white locks. If the Nightmare King still had a heart, it'd be breaking now under that gaze full of hopelessness and pain.

"Y-you don't want me... All I do is make a-a mess of everything..."

And Pitch felt his body moving against his will, hands resting gently on the boy's shoulders, golden eyes never leaving the trembling child as if he'd just disappear at any moment. He couldn't **understand** it. How could the other spirits _fear_ someone so broken, so fragile?

"We can make them **believe** , Jack. Let me show you."

There was a long moment of pure silence, and then the boy nodded softly, a hint of smile dancing on his pale lips. That was it. He had _won_. The battle against the Guardians would be almost pointless now.

But in his blind agitation he didn't notice the trail of frost running down his neck, towards his heart.  
He didn't notice the smirk that grew on Jack's lips the moment he turned to step on a shadow, too busy keeping the child secure on his arms to travel safely through darkness and away from the cold to pay attention to anything else.

Ah, if he had just _believed_ in the old stories...

The moment they stepped in his lair, a blinding shot of pain crossed his heart.  
The cold. It was **overwhelming**.

"Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Boogeyman."

He barely registered the child's words as he fell on the ground, the unbearable pain traveling through every inch of his body and soul like little, sharp knifes cutting and stabbing under his skin. He gasped breathless, trying to suck in some air into his lungs that were freezing oh so slowly.

Drowning. He was _drowning_.  
He couldn't breath. He couldn't move. He felt the cold taking away his warmth, his heartbeat.

"Hush now. Don't be afraid."

Gentle fingers touched his hair, a strange kind of warmth slipping among all the cold.  
The last thing he saw was a pair of blue eyes shining in compassion and understanding, and then darkness engulfed him forever.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading!**_  
 _ **See ya~**_


	3. Into the Woods

_**Hello, dearies! The chapter is a bit late but oh well, I couldn't really write a good ending for this one and I'm just sorry. I tried, okay? /;v;/  
And thank you guys for your lovely reviews, follows and favorites! It makes me so happy! **__**By the way, I noticed I've written only chapters about Pitch's POV. Time to change it! Next chapter will be on Jack's POV and I hope you guys like it.**_

 _ **If you have any requests, let me know!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own RoTG nor Into the Woods. I just borrowed the lyrics.**_

* * *

 **Summary: Winter finally arrives at his woods, and Pitch finds the one behind it.  
(RoTG AU; pre-movie)**

 _"Though it's fearful, though it's dark and though you may lose the path, you can't just act, you have to listen."_

* * *

 **Into the Woods**

Winter had arrived earlier this year, yet he couldn't be more _grateful_ for that. His overheated body always welcomed the freezing touch against his skin, the resemblance of a gentle, deadly embrace that had been denied to him in times long vanished from the mind of men and spirits alike. Yet he _remembered_ , for that was the only thing he could do after countless years lurking in the shadows, alone and forgotten. He remembered the touches, the voices and smiles. He knew those things meant something once, something **important** that he had abandoned in his blind seek for vengeance, a mad desire that had turned pointless over the years. He knew he had been _so angry_ , once. Angry and jealous and full of rage because they had everything he'd never retrieve.

And then there was nothing but the fading memories, incomplete feelings that didn't burn anymore. Sometimes he wondered if **he was still real, still there** because there was _nothing_ else to feel but the emptiness inside, but winter would come and embrace him with cold arms, so he could remember again. He wanted to remember. He _needed_ to.

Cold air filled his lungs the very moment his body escaped the shadows and its greedy grip. It was already night on the dark woods he had been wandering for decades, a place he dared to call 'home' sometimes, when he could glimpse the meaning of the word **again and again and again**. It hurt not to remember, yet it hurt more to remember how it used to feel like because he knew he still cared. He missed the comforting warmth, the peaceful moments shared with people he knew he had cared deeply for, in the times he were a great hero. The memory of their faces and voices and touches had faded away a long time ago, taken by dark images of destruction and sadness and fear.

Ah, delightful fear... he loved it, he loved the way it filled every inch of his body.  
Fear made him breath, move, live. Fear was his only friend and lover. He didn't _need_ anything else-

 _So into the woods you go again,  
_ _You have to every now and then.  
_ _Into the woods, no telling when,  
_ _Be ready for the journey._

The sweet voice that seemed to echo in every inch of the woods shattered the silence and **ignited** in his mind a strange, bothersome feeling he had long forgotten, simply discarded as _useless_. The pathetic pieces of a ruined humanity that still hid within the depths of his corrupted body recognized a happy tune, the song filled with such joy that made him feel **sick**. His body melted in the shadows, allowing the darkness to consume him once more as he tried to block away those raging noises that sounded _too close_ now.

 _Into the woods, but not too fast  
_ _or what you wish, you lose at last._

And winter had officially arrived in his woods, snow falling softly from the darkened sky, burying the ground in a few inches of pure white, beautiful and disgusting at the same time. He wanted to _touch_ it, to feel the snowflakes on his skin, to feel the cold wind brushing his face. He moved softly, ready to leave his hiding spot for good and put his little plan in action - but then a small, quick form flew dangerously close, and he shrunk deeper into the shadows.

It wasn't _fear_.  
It was **shame**.

He had been a great warrior in the Golden Age, and a powerful sovereign during the Dark Years. How could he be seen like this, no more than a mangled shadow of what he used to be? It was _humiliating_ , painful even.

Even so, he couldn't help but follow the little creature jumping from tree to tree, leaving a trail of frost in every leave and branch on the way, completely unaware of the shadow moving behind him. Curious; ah, that was the word. He was _curious_ and somehow **delighted**. He had never seen such a fragile winter spirit before, surely not at _this close_. Other spirits had always avoided that special area, where the darkness clung at the trees with a vicious grip and the shadows dwelled patiently, waiting for the next victim.

 _Into the woods, but mind the past.  
_ _Into the woods, but mind the future._

And there was a _child_ , moving graciously and spreading winter with his mere touch. His skin was pale, perfect and soft, and his hair so white it could've been mistaken by a pile of snow. A **disturbing** white contrast against all the darkness engulfing those woods as he kept going deeper and deeper, leaving snow and cold behind him.

 _Into the woods, but not to stray,  
_ _Or tempt the wolf, or steal from the giant-_

The winter child had a gentle voice, soft as the snowflakes following him.

For the first time in a long time, the Boogeyman wished a child - _that child_ \- could see him. He had forgotten how it felt like to be talked to, to be touched by other hands that weren't his own, just like he had forgotten everything else, and he wished he could retrieve everything that had been stolen from him. But that was a false hope, an empty promise.

He stepped out of the shadows, breathing heavily. The cold breeze bit at his skin, a soft reminder he was still alive, still real.  
At least the cold couldn't _ignore_ him.

The winter child had disappeared in the darkness, the snow and sheets of ice covering every inch of the woods being the only trace left behind, but before he had enough time to get disappointed and sadness take over him, a snowflake landed on the tip of his nose. A bubble of laughter dared to make its way up his throat and he didn't even try to stop the pathetic giggles that escaped his lips.

Perhaps in the next year, winter wouldn't be as hopeless as he had thought.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading, and I'm really sorry for this chapter ;v;**_  
 _ **See ya~**_


	4. White

_**Hullo, I'm back~ Hope you guys are enjoying reading these stories as much I'm enjoying writing them. Well, this chapter isn't one of my favorites but I really liked it. It must look really confusing at first but oh well, I tried ;v; Aah, I've been thinking about writing a third/final part for this arc, so let me know if you'd like to read it and if you'd like to have Pitch back to help cleaning the mess he did (can you picture Pitch helping the Guardians to stop Jack? well, it'd be fun to write!) so let me know what you think!**_

 _ **If you have any requests, let me know!**_

 _ **Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.**_

* * *

 **Summary: Everything is white and wrong and it hurts. But someone finally comes to take him away from the eternal cold.  
(RoTG AU; _The Wolf and the Lamb_ arc; dark!Jack; ****warnings: main character death mention)**

 _"Maybe it's a dream, maybe nothing else is real."_

* * *

 **White**

White, _white_ , **white**.

It was always white and blue and white again and it was wrong, **wrong** , _wrong_.  
There was no light of sun, no sound to hear.

He knew there were other colors, once. Brilliant, _beautiful_. He had loved the colors.  
Now everything was always white and quiet, always wrong and he hated it.

He could remember glimpses of the past, fading memories of times where there were more colors and noises and voices. He could recall the joy. It was warm, bright and burning but it burned in a good way because it made him feel he _belonged_. He had been happy before. He played and laughed and danced and it had felt good until the hate made it bitter and all wrong. It mixed together painfully, twisting and pulling until there was only pain and cold and white again. So much had changed and now he was hurt, hollowed. They had **forgotten** , they had locked him away and pretended he wasn't real because he wasn't like _them_.

 _You're dangerous,_ they said. _Unpredictable. We don't even know_ what _you are._

 **What** was he? He couldn't remember.  
He had been a child once, he knew that much. Now he was cold all the time, lost and lonely.

When it was too quiet, he screamed and cried but no one heard him.  
He hurt himself, over and over and over again because blood had another color in other people but never on him.

Red, red, _red_.

He had **painted** his white with the red of other children. It was warm, shining and glittering like a candle. The children were no longer warm but he enjoyed the frost on their faces, the paleness on their skin. Their red tainted the white and it was just right because it made the snow prettier than before. Their spirits had fled, fragile, flying. Sometimes he wished he could flee too, but all he could do in there was wait, wanting and wounded.

And then it was all _wrong_ again.

 _It hurts it hurts make it stop please I did nothing wrong_ _ **why do you hate me so much**_ _please stop it-  
_ _I'll be good I'll be good please take me home_ _ **I want to go home**_

That place was no home. It _should_ be, yet it wasn't. That place was just wrong but no matter what he tried, he couldn't escape it. He was dangerous, he was a nuisance, he _deserved_ to be locked in there, forgotten and unforgiven.

 **Home** was long gone, like a faded painting, a vanishing dream.  
Home was fun, warm, not good but nice.

He wasn't _real_. He didn't deserve a home. He was a ghost, a corpse that wasn't dead, seeking for a place that he'd never belong. And he had cried again, scared and scarred, raw and exposed. _I hate it_ _ **I hate it**_ _let me go home I'll be good_ _ **please**_ _I'm tired I'm so tired..._ And sharp nails would hurt his face, his body so maybe the exposed pain would be enough to silence the agonizing misery slamming at his very soul, shattering his heart over and over again. The cracks on his icy skin felt right, and he cherised every one of them until they'd disappeared under the snow.

White, **white** , white.

He hated the white, and he hated _himself_.  
His touch only brought **death** , cold. His winter stole warmth, comfort.

He didn't deserve to go home. To live, to be real.  
Why would anyone _want_ someone like him around? He was cursed, **marred** , marked.

White, white, white.

And then something invaded his snowy world, something right and wrong at the same time, taunting and tainting. Suddenly there was no more white, no more silence. Everything was dark, dark, _dark_. Darkness whispered through him, golden and glittering. It shattered the endless white, singing darker songs filled with old pain, and he decided he _loved_ the darkness. It was just so warm, sweet and soft, embracing him so gently it was almost overwhelming. He allowed himself to get lost in the warmth, in the kindness that had been denied to him for so long.

 _Come home_ , it whispered inside his mind, _we'll love you we'll take care of you come with us we_ _ **want**_ _you_. Honeyed lies that sang the wrong song yet he couldn't care less. A **friend**. He had a new friend to play with now.

Dark, dark, dark.

The white finally disappeared completely, consumed by the darkness still clinging at him, tainting his skin, corrupting his shattered heart. The Boogeyman's arms were warm and wrong, but soon cold overtook those feelings as the tall man fell on the ground, drowning and freezing. Scared, he was so _scared_... His fingers touched dark locks of hair as gently as he could remember.

"Hush now. Don't be afraid."

Golden eyes finally closed to never open again, a trail of frost covering the once grey face oh so slowly, creating beautiful patterns along the way.  
Pretty, pretty, **pretty**.

He wanted to see more of those pretty creations of his.

A gust of wind hit him hard on the face, fussing and furious, greedy for the company of her lost winter child. He giggled and fell into her embrace, allowing her to take him to wherever she wanted, intoxicating himself with the long desired _freedom_. And for the first time in **forever** , everything felt just right. He loved the noises, the life, the colors once more. He loved being the winter, bringing cold and snow with him. There was no more pain, no more emptiness. There was the wind and the bright moon shining over him, and that was enough for now.

Now it was time to enjoy himself and _everything_ he had lost during those long years of banishment.

Something struck at his heart softly, barely real to be painful, and a smirk grew on his lips at the dark thoughts slipping into his mind as the sweetest poison.

Oh, he'd make them regret every **little** thing they had done to him.  
Every. Little. Thing.

That, that would be _fun_.

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading! If you could, please leave a review. It'd make me very happy!**_  
 _ **See ya~!**_


	5. Death of a Dream

**_Hello my dearies, and I'm sorry for the huge delay! I'm just trying to focus on 76323 things at once and my mind doesn't want to help me. But thank you so much for all your follows, favorites and reviews! It means a lot to me and you have no idea of how happy I am right now! Thank you!_**

 ** _As for this chapter... I needed to write it before I got crazy. Titanic (and James Cameron's movie) has been part of everyone's life since ever, but I don't think many people got curious enough to see things on the real life. So this chapter is hugely based on my researches of what happened to the real Titanic and_** _not based on the movie at all_ ** _._**

 ** _And my salutes to Thomas Andrews, the man who designed the Titanic and saved as many lives as he could during her plunge until the very last moment._**

 ** _Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians._**

* * *

 **Summary: It couldn't be happening. He couldn't understand- how could his most perfect creation die on such a shameful way?  
(Titanic!AU; human!Jack; human!Pitch/Kozmotis)**

 _"Those who run from death... stood still in life."_

* * *

 ** _Death of a Dream_**

 _April 14, 1912_

It had taken him an exact full minute to comprehend what was about to happen; the officer's panic words and harsh breathing had been enough to give away something was terribly amiss, yet he hadn't even needed the man to enter the cabin at rushed steps to know. He had **felt** the ice ripping through the metal of a marvelous hull, painful and cruel as a backstab. He had almost heard the ship's cries as if they were his _own_. Unfortunately understanding didn't bring acceptance with it, and his mind refused to wrap around the fact that something had happened to **his** majestic Titanic. Wonderful, splendorous, untouchable, indestructible... _unsinkable_ , as they had said. And they had said so with such conviction and so often that even Jack almost decided to believe in such a _blatant_ lie because it was easier than make they understand the truth. And the Titanic could survive almost everything, after all. She was great, perfectly planned and patiently built and he had simply laughed their new story as another joke, not taking their words as seriously as so many had done. Everyone else inside the wonderful ship had believed she was unsinkable and held into that hope as one would hold a lifesaver, completely sure nothing bad could happen during her maiden voyage.

And their hopes had been so high, almost _palpable_ , that he had grown unconcerned, blind to anything else but those annoying, indelicate details he would fix on her later, completely unaware of the warnings of iceberg fields ahead. Not to mention he decided to **ignore** the high speed Captain Smith and his crew were forcing on her engines. Nothing would happen, therefore he shouldn't worry about more than his notebooks and papers that quickly had pilled up on his desk -countless plans and diaries, and _oh God he had so many things to do, so many little flaws he needed to take care of because she needed to be as perfect as she can_ -

And then he had found himself following a terrified officer and a very worried Captain to examine the damage inflicted by the cruel ice on her beautiful hull, listening to the gruesome cracks of bending metal. For long minutes he did nothing but check on every plan and every line, looking for some answer, trying to really comprehend the true extensions of her wounds. The merciless seawater was invading the Titanic too quickly, flooding her decks before the men stuck on the boiler rooms could do something to stop it from reaching further rooms and floors. Her hull had been severely damaged beyond any chance of sealing it, as far as he could tell. She had been traveling too fast, they hadn't had enough time to avoid the collision... Realization dawned over him with the finesse of a slap on the face as his logical mind finally decided to work on his favor in that second.

The **unsinkable** ship would _sink_.

The truth felt bitter and vile on his tongue, a sweet dream that had become the worst of his nightmares in a blink of an eye, ripping through his hopes the same way the iceberg had tore at Titanic's defenses. A mere few hours ago people was laughing and dancing and smiling, feeling so happy and lucky to be there. To be on the greatest ship in the world... For a moment time seemed to stop dead on its tracks, numbness taking over his senses completely. How could it be happening? He had designed the Titanic with a fierce, blind passion, he had gone with only a few hours of sleep while drawing her plans, putting so much of his heart and soul on that ship. He had built her _not to sink_ , for Pete's sake! How could she been sinking in that very moment, while he could barely breath and gather his thoughts? That was... a _tragedy_.

When _exactly_ did everything go so wrong?

"This is absolutely preposterous!" And there was a loud voice by his side, sounding as incredulous as Jack felt. As if he could really feel something but the cold torpor that rushed through his body as quietly as the purest poison, overcoming his senses before he could even fight it. "Outrageous, I say! The Titanic-"

"Can _sink_ , Mr. Ismay." The shipbuilder had no idea how he could sound so certain about something so terrifying, yet it didn't matter. Trembling fingers traced the lines of now hopeless decks, wondering for a moment if his touch could do something to fix the damage they had inflicted on his precious creation. "I can assure you I've _not_ created a battleship. As strong as she is, she **had not** been designed to support such great quantities of water inside her. It's a mathematical certainty and a matter of time. From the moment we lose boiler 5... we may have an hour. Two, at the most. No one can stay down there." And his eyes fell on the terrified little man ( _how could've he never noticed how small Bruce Ismay really were?_ ), sharp and vicious as the cold waters destroying the Titanic. "Not a quarter of the passengers will make it, due to the short numbers of lifeb oats _you_ allowed on her. Then I suggest you, Mr. Ismay, to either be helpful or stay out of the way."

Silence fell over the entire cabin for a long, precious minute they couldn't afford to spend and without another word he turned and left, decided to do something.. _anything_ he could to help the unaware passengers, no matter the cost. Yet he never really comprehended what happened on the next hours, for everything seemed to pass by his eyes like a blur, almost a dream fogged by traces of the cruelest of the nightmare. While his body moved, his mind refused to follow, working as a quiet spectator watching a twisted show from afar. Not that he cared about it on that _critical moment_. He could see himself moving, running, **pleading**. He knew he had screamed and fought officers, forcing more and more passengers into lifeboats even if they wanted to push him aside and claim it was too dangerous. How couldn't those mindless officers understand something purely simple? Everyone needed to get out of the Titanic, they needed to save their lives before it was _too late_. He felt his hands gripping at any chair or floating thing he had found on his way and throwing them at the ocean to maybe, just maybe help those trying to swim away from the deadly ship, to give them a chance to face the icy waters more easily, with a bit more hope of surviving. Self preservation had long abandoned his senses, fleeing as quickly as the waters invaded his precious ship.

And then, for a second that resembled waking up from a dream, Jack suddenly noticed a completely different picture of the Titanic he had built.

There were couples clinging at each other, refusing to leave their lovers behind, whispering comforting words that meant so much more than he'd ever remember again. There were children crying for their mothers and fathers, scared and cold, children that probably wouldn't have a chance to grow up... But there were also brave men that, despite the fear craved deep into their hearts, kept working nonstop. He had heard the musicians playing over and over, giving the chilly night an eerie yet calming, comforting feeling - and to his complete surprise, he had seen Mr. Ismay desperately encouraging women into lifeboats, helping as much as he could, even if there was little anyone in that ship could do but wait for either rescue or impending doom. They had seen lights on the horizon, so maybe...maybe the Titanic would be strong enough to float until help arrived. But minutes ticked by too fast, and little by little he had felt her hull and decks giving into the water easily, as if made not of the strongest metal in the world but of paper. At some point of the night, something inside his chest seemed to **snap** and he suddenly found himself standing in the middle of a smoking room, eyes fixed on the painting of _Plymouth Harbor_. She had been supposed to visit that place after her return travel... His fingers brushed through the lifesave he had been expected to wear but had left over a table amidst of his reverie.

How... how could things have gone _so wrong_ in so **little** time?

Months of careful planning, of sleepless nights... What... _what_ had he forgotten? He had been so sure that everything was **perfect** , that he had created a ship that wouldn't sink... Even so, the waters kept invading more and more, pulling the Titanic into the depths of the sea, destroying in a matter of hours what he had taken years to be built. Hands came to rest gently against his chest, feeling the desperate beating of his heart. It couldn't be happening... the Titanic... the most wonderful machinery the world had ever seen... it was a dream, wasn't it? A terrible, terrible dream he couldn't wake up from. Trembling, almost frozen fingers dug into the soft fabric of his shirt, trying to reach and break the skin ( _he had to wake up he had to!_ ). Jack felt _hysterical_ , completely lost in the waves of fear and horror that had struck his heart before he could even understand it. How could the Titanic be _dying_ in that right moment, in front of his eyes? What had he **done** to deserve the weight of... hundred of lives on his shoulders?

"Mr. Andrews?" The shipbuilder barely heard the confused man calling his name nor turned to see who was still there. Perhaps it was another steward... It didn't matter anymore, in fact. "We should leave, sir."

They should leave, indeed...

But he was completely aware of the lack of lifeboats. He was completely aware of the mistakes commited by the crew, ignoring his orders to fill the seats even after he had guaranteed it was safe. Almost every lifeboat had escaped the Titanic only half full. How could he even think about taking one's chance to live? There were still so many people down there... For a moment he felt like crying, weeping for those who would never have a chance to escape, to survive. Why, why did he let Ismay do as he pleased and not put all the lifeboats? They could've saved almost everyone! A silent, shaken sob left his lips before he took a deep breath, forcing a calmness he didn't feel back into his senses. They still had a little time left and he surely wouldn't spend it crying over what couldn't be helped. He wasn't thinking about dying, about the freezing waters waiting to claim him only a few feets away. He wasn't thinking _at all_.

And while he was screaming into the megaphone, begging to the half filled lifeboats to come back and get more passengers, Ismay almost refused to leave the Titanic. It took them an entire minute to convince the man to get into one of the last boats that would ever leave the ship, and for a second or so that their eyes met, Jack believed he wanted to say something. As if he wanted to _apologize_... something painful got stuck on his throat and quickly the shipbuilder dismissed it. There had been so many people at fault... yet there was no one to blame, was there? No one could've foreseen that...

A deep, powerful sequence of explosions reverberated through the entire Titanic and made him forget about anything else he had been musing over until now, and Jack watched in horror and silent, cruel panic as water consumed the decks, pulling her deeper and deeper. He watched as the funnels broke apart and fell into the sea, he heard the metal cracking and giving up painfully slowly.

That was it, then...

He didn't listen to the heartbreaking, helpless screams from the almost hundred five people that were still on board. He didn't hear the explosions tearing the entire ship apart.

No.  
He heard the _Titanic herself_ cry out in pain and agony.

And his cold grip on the grids faltered only when the majestic ship broke in two, the deadly waters getting closer and closer as he slid through the destroyed deck.

And then, there was darkness.

* * *

 _April 14, 2012_

"That's it, boys!" The cheerful voice echoing through the entire cabin made Kozmotis laugh silently, shaking his head. How could someone get so excited about a wreck site? Well of course the Titanic was a wonder, a tragedy that had changed countless lives, yet he had never been that curious about the _unsinkable_ ship that had sank a hundred years ago. And so many people had already found her, there was so many data and images and... Jackson Overland was a rich man with exquisite hobbies but the one filling their pockets nonetheless. The things he did for money... "Let's find that beauty before midnight strikes!"

"Aye aye, sir."

And during the entire hour the drone took to dive deep into the Atlantic, the expedition leader didn't look away from the five monitors showing the dark waters not even for a second, strangely quiet. The drone was faster than most modern equipments Kozmotis had ever seen, yet it seemed not to be fast enough to placate Jackson's sudden distress. The young man kept rubbing his fingers against an old pocket watch, as old as the wreck site they were looking for - and it took him only a second to remember that same pocket watch had been recovered from the Titanic wreck years ago. How it ended up on that submersible, on Jack's hands, was something he really didn't want to understand even if the answer was as clear as day: lots of money the young man had decided to spend blindlessly on trips to the sunken ship. Well he shouldn't dwell on other's business and even if Kozmotis feared for the young man's mental well being, it was obviously important to him.

"We've spotted something!"

The chief engineer didn't even try to suppress the shiver of pure, odd excitement that ran through his entire body as the first images of the disformed ship finally showed up on the monitors. As much as he wasn't such a big fan of the Titanic he couldn't deny her story was as beautiful as it was tragic. Jackson's reaction, though, was one he hadn't expected at all. The young man was staring at the screen in a wild, silent kind of _hysteria_ \- as if he was simply **terrified** of the remains of the once great ship, the very thing they've been looking for the whole night. Kozmotis approached slowly, wondering if he should get that close, if the young man would push him away as he always did to others... but his hand came to rest on a strangely cold shoulder and Jackson sucked in a sudden, deep breath (almost as if he had been drowning...), blue eyes that were always so full of life as dull as a broken lamp.

It was a heartbreaking sight, indeed.

"Is everything okay?" The older man asked softly, not daring to call the crew's attention for they wouldn't be of any help in that moment. "We've found her."

"We...we did." Jack nodded, his voice barely a whisper above the cheerful yells of Aster and Nicholas, and once more he turned to stare at the bright screens. The drone had gotten close enough to the sunk ship now, and Kozmotis noticed the very second something on the albino's expression changed - _twisted_ , more like it. He was almost **beaming** , the fright from moments before completely forgotten. That was it. Jackson Overland surely had some kind of mental illness... "She's beautiful... as nearly perfect as human brains could've make her..."

Something stirred on the depths of his mind as those words echoed, yet the engineer refused to dwell on it for any longer. They had found the godforsaken Titanic and they had a lot of exploration to do, a lot of data to get and he had that gnawing feeling that Jackson wouldn't let them return home until he was satisfied.

That would be a very, very long night...

* * *

 _ **Thank you for reading!**_  
 _ **See ya~**_


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